


On Sunshine

by Terrorbyrd



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6255214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terrorbyrd/pseuds/Terrorbyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a beautiful morning in Kirkwall, and the Captain of the Guard is ready to take on the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [klickitats (leaffy)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=klickitats+%28leaffy%29).



Aveline dreams of bacon. She dreams of the cheery sizzling of fat in her cast iron pan. She dreams of serving up heaping plates of bacon and hash-browned potatoes to Hawke and Varric, who’ve memorized her schedule and have a way of turning up in her kitchen on her mornings off. She dreams of hearing knocking at the door, and finding on her stoop a sleepy Isabela and a cheerful Merrill with a bag of fruit fresh from the market. She dreams of laughter, sunlight streaming across the breakfast table, and the permeating scent of bacon.

When she wakes up, the details of her dream swim through her mind. The smell and sound of cooking bacon linger in the air. It takes her a moment to remember that Varric and Hawke are with the Inquisition down in Ferelden. Fenris has joined Isabela onboard her ship in lieu of Hawke, and together they’re chasing slavers up and down the coastlines of Maker-knows-where. Anders vanished soon after the fateful night the mage-templar conflict came to a head, though every time she hears of another Circle uprising, she can guess where he is. Merrill is still here, of course, but she finds it difficult to keep track of Aveline’s ever-shifting schedule, so these days Aveline goes to see her in the alienage, and marvels at the progress happening there.

And yet she can still smell bacon. If she strains her ears, she can also hear the bacon frying merrily away, and… Someone whistling _Admiral of the Eastern Seas_ , that annoyingly catchy new ditty that had sprung up seemingly out of nowhere recently. Her dream finally fading away, Aveline crawls out of the warm embrace of her quilted comforter to meet her day.

Over a breakfast of bacon, potatoes, and mushrooms, courtesy of Donnic, home from his night shift, Aveline catches up with the night’s events in the Guard. They chat about both official happenings and scandalous gossip, smiling at each other over the vase of fresh flowers in the centre of their table, positioned perfectly to catch the morning light. Even when they’re on conflicting schedules they make the effort to share a meal and spend time together, and Aveline has never felt more loved, or more in love. On her way out the door she kisses Donnic goodnight, after closing the heavy curtains for him.

Sword at her hip and shield strapped to her back, Aveline feels ready to take on the day as she steps out onto the Lowtown streets. They had finally finished clearing out the rubble in Lowtown last month, weeks after they finished in Hightown naturally, and the sounds of hammering and sawing echo throughout the narrow streets as local businesses make their final repairs. She finds the smell of fresh wood oddly comforting. People greet her as she walks by, and she has a smile or a nod or a “is your mother doing better today?” for every one of them.

Only as she passes under the new sign for the Hanged Man does the nostalgia of her dream come floating back, and standing beneath it, she allows herself a moment to remember a time when the paint on the sign was faded, and the wood was old and cracked. When hers was one of the merry voices coming from within, mingled with those of the people she unexpectedly came to consider family. But she allows herself just the one moment, because there’s work to be done (there’s always work to be done in Kirkwall), and she straightens up, runs a hand through her cropped hair, and strides onwards in the sunlit streets, hopeful for a brighter future for Kirkwall.


End file.
